Erotica
by Unwearied Sorrow
Summary: "As a woman, what pleasure could I be able to find if I ever went looking for it? Not that I ever would, I was raised a proper lady!"  /18th century. Au-All human. OOC 18  only! Full Summary inside


**Full summary:**

**18th century England, Isabella Marie Swan is the only child of the great family Swan. Her parents have always sheltered her. They have a medieval look on sex and they truly believe that a woman's job is simply to look pretty. Bella being extremely beautiful needs to be kept locked away from the world as much as possible, at least until they can find a man good enough for her to marry.**

**Bella, a shy timid 18 year old girl (I guess she would be considered a women), do not share her parent's beliefs. She wants more from life and she has a strange fascination about sex. She knows that nothing good can come out of it and she believes that her life always will be boring. That is until she meets Jasper Whitlock, a painter that in secret paints erotica.**

**Warning: This story contains writing that is not suitable for anyone that is underage. This story will contain sex, a lot of sex. That means 18 and over only, the story is rated M after all.**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N: The first part of chapter one will simply tell you how the heroin met the hero, the second part of chapter one is more how this story will be like.**  
**Please read the author's note at the bottom.**

**PS Did you know that the clitoris was "discovered" in 1559, at least it was documented the first time by Renaldus Columbus? Of course it was probably known before that just not named.**  
**Also I cannot use the g-spot in this story, it hadn't been discovered yet! It was studied in the 1940's and I think named in1981 (Gräfenberg Spot aka g-spot).**

**PSS I'm going to go out on the limb here and presume that the penis didn't need to be "discovered" like the clitoris (cough cough) and therefore had nicknames back in the 18th century. If you however know anything about the history of cocks please feel free to tell me ;)**

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**Erotica**

**Chapter 1 (part 1)**

**The right to pleasure **

Men knows the secrets that a woman's body has hidden, while a woman are brought up not to know of such things until she is married, if she remains a maid she should forever remain ignorant. I am not so naive to think that every married woman knows those secret's that society keep well concealed but I am certain that she at least knows the secrets of a man. It is a woman's curse, not all men look to bring happiness and dear I think it? pleasure to a woman but only to himself.

A woman's job is to find a husband, to love him, follow him where he might desire to go and to do his bidding without question. I should there for as a woman not even think of such things, the man I marry (if I ever do find a suitable suitor) will then show me what he considers is needed for me to know. However, I try to deny it even to myself, I do find my mind wander from time to time and I wonder. I do not know much and the little I do know I have figured out myself, seen, or read in a book I should not have been reading. I know that children comes from women, they are created in an act of intimacy, I dear believe that the intimacy part happens in that certain place of a woman that she is not allowed to touch. I have read that it's sometimes called 'womanhood'. I have also read that a man have something called 'male member', I think that perhaps the 'male member' and the woman's 'womanhood' somehow come together to create a child. Of course I cannot be sure; I am a maid after all and have never seen a man without clothes.

The way men behave and talk when they think no woman is near seems to indicate that intercourse is a pleasurable thing. And so now I am wondering again, as a woman what pleasure could I be able to find if I ever went looking for it? Not that I ever would, I was raised a proper lady! Although I can't help but to think, wonder and even wish that I one day will escape, if only for a little while, this boring life and enter one full of pleasure.

The day my life changed was a day when the unusual happened. I was sitting in the reading room calmly, trying to read the utterly boring book that had been approved my Father. Despite my father's anger at the idée of his daughter being able to read my mother's consistent argue over the cause made him give in, I was glad.

"Bella dear you need to make yourself presentable we have a gathering we need to attend" I heard my mother say behind me. This might not seem atypical to a normal person I however rarely got to go anywhere.

"What type of gathering mother?"

"Mr. Whitlock's son is visiting and apparently he is a painter, a painter! Can you believe it, a son of a nobleman working as a painter? Nevertheless, Mr. Whitlock insisted that we come and see some of his son's work. I dare say that he has invited quite a lot of people.

Why anyone would want to go and look at paintings is beyond me although I must say that I am rather intrigued to meet his son. Young Mr. Whitlock has not been in England for many years but I have heard that he's quite handsome. Your father is naturally beside himself and rather wished that you stayed home instead, however, you must attend. Wear that white/pink dress with the gold embroider at the front, it is concealing enough to please your father but still shows enough skin so that no one will consider you a nun."

One should think twice about asking mother about anything, she was very fond of her own voice.

"Yes mother" I said, rather pleased with the dress she asked me to wear. It was an expensive dress that had been costume made by a famous dress maker. If the corset was laced tight enough my bosom would show more than was intended when the dress was made.

I had Emily, my lady's-made, lace the corset as tight as possible; she smiled a little and did as I asked. I refused to wear a wig, instead I told her to pile up some of my hair and leave a few curls to frame my face. I liked making myself look pretty however I did not find some of the hair styles the women wore pretty; I found them to be the opposite.

The last thing I did was to put on my gloves, mother and father insisted that no man was allowed to touch my bare skin, not even my hands.

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Young Mr. Whitlock, Mr. Whitlock's son, had yet to make an appearance. I wasn't bothered by it; in fact, I was having the time of my life. Being alone in a house full of servants with nothing to do the majority of the time becomes boresome.

I knew my place, I was meant to walk one step behind mother and father at all times, curtsey when introduced and speak only when spoken to but remember to only speak words that are necessary. The reason I was having the time of my life, despite of my lack of interaction, was that I had a lot to look at.

Young Mr. Whitlock's paintings was beyond beautiful, they were mesmerizing. The paintings were all of women and I walked as in a daze around the room, never in my life had I seen more astonishing work. The women all looked alive; I was expecting them to at any moment walk out of the painting and in to this room. The colors he had used to paint were dim, shadowy and every one of the women had a small smile on their lips; like they had some sort of secret. If I could walk around this room for eternity and look at these paintings I would do so gladly.

I hardly noticed the people I had to exchange a few words with; normally I would jump at the opportunity to talk to other people besides mother and father however that was not the case this evening.

"Bella, look, there he is, young Mr. Whitlock! The gossip was true, he certainly is handsome." My mother whispered in my ear and I raised my head to look where she was looking with a sudden interest in the man who had made these paintings that had captivated me.

As soon as I looked at young Mr. Whitlock I was taken aback. This artist was a masterpiece all on his own and a yearning so strong I thought that I might lose my breath was suddenly awoken within me. What startled me the most was that he was staring at me, really staring and other people was even starting to notice it! That was not an acceptable behavior however I could not find it within me to care. I felt my cheeks grow red when he started to walk in my direction.

My father was talking to Mr. Whitlock when Young Mr. Whitlock walked up.

"Jasper, I like you to meet Mr. Swan and his wife Mrs. Swan" Mr. Whitlock said and gestured to mother and father. I was standing as required one step behind them. Jasper his name was Jasper, somehow the sound of his name made my heart flutter.

"Mr. Swan, Mrs. Swan and" Jasper said and looked at me questiongly.

"My daughter, Isabella Swan" My father answered.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Swan" Jasper said and lifted my hand up to kiss it, I had never disliked wearing gloves more than in this moment, the feel of his lips against my skin would have been the thrill of my life.

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well Mr. Whitlock" I answered.

"Would you like me to show you my paintings Miss Swan?" He asked and before my father had time to object I answered,

"I would be delighted if you would do me the honor."

Jasper held his arm out to me and I took it, keeping my eyes down, I didn't want to see my father's stern face or my mother's disapproving looks. Why they would object of me talking to a respectable man in a room full of people was beyond me, what on earth did they think could happen?

The feeling of holding Jasper's arm was rousing, he felt strong and masculine. I had the sudden urge to take my glove of and ask him to kiss my hand again.

Instead of leading me to one of the portraits he lead me to one of the openings of the room, this particular opening lead to a smaller room where only two people were standing. They did not notice us when we entered; they were deeply engrossed in a conversation.

"Mr. Whitlock, where are you taking me? I think" Before I had time to finish the sentence he interrupted me.

"Shh, don't think. Come." He said and looked around him before opening a door and pulled me inside.

"Mr. Whitlock, it is not proper for me to be alone with you" I said as I looked around the room we had entered. It looked to be some kind of sitting room, a large white sofa was placed in the middle, facing the widows so that one could sit there and gaze out.

I could simply have walked back by myself but somehow I found myself being unable to do so. Jasper intrigued me and I felt completely safe with him, although the strange feeling of a fire being awoken within me when I looked at him was unnerving and elevating at the same time.

"All other women pale in comparison to you" I blushed at his words, I had never gotten a compliment before. I was not blind; I understood that I was quite adequate, I could however not see how his words could hold any truth.

The intensity of his gaze made me unable to look away; his eyes were the darkest shade of green I had ever seen.

"Mr. Whitlock!" I said sternly or at least I was trying to; his smile made me want to smile.

"I only said what all men have wanted to say to you all evening Isabella. And please stop calling me Mr. Whitlock, I like Jasper much better. " He said and his smile turned in to a grin.

My heart rate picked up, I would love to call him Jasper.

"Mr. Whitlock I did not give you permission to call me Isabella, we do not know each other enough to speak with such familiarity. We should retune to the party before anyone notice that we are gone" I said and made my way to the door.

Before I had time to open it I felt him pressed up against my back, putting his hands on my arms to stop my movement.

"Please Miss Swan stay. Never in my life have I witness such beauty, I want to paint you" he said and I suddenly found it hard to breathe. I had never stood so close to a man before, the scent of him filled me to the point where I could smell nothing ells, he smelled of musk and it made saliva gather in my mouth.

"My father would not approve of such a thing Mr. Whitlock"

Gently he turned me around, when standing so close to him he seemed very tall, I had to turn my head up to see his eyes. Slowly as if not to startle me he brought his right hand to my face, I was staring at it, wide eyed as it got closer and closer. When his hand stroked my cheek I could feel sparks flying and I was lost, no matter how silly it sounded the moment I felt his skin against my skin I was his.

Like a cat I leaned in to his touch, wishing the sensation would never end. His rough manly hand gently caressing my cheek was the most glorious thing I have ever felt.

"I watched you, unable to enter the room I was so taken away by your beauty! Come away with me, be my muse Isabella."

I saw it before me, the life that I had been denied by my parents and by simply being a woman. A life I had secretly wished for and yearned after, a life so different from the one I led now. A life that could perhaps be full of joy and pleasure and all things forbidden and not be filled with solitude and tediousness that my future here so clearly promise. Could I be a muse?

"If you rather wish to stay and live the life that is planned for you I will be forced to stay and marry you. I am an artist; I need the freedom that could never be given here. As an artist I am also inclined to keep my muse when she is found, how could I live, breathe, paint without my muse?"

"How can you be so certain that I am your muse?"

"A painter knows his muse when he sees her."

"If I will be your muse, tell me then what you will be to me"

"Everything, anything" He said and lowered his head. I had dreamt of this moment for so long, the moment when my lips would finally know what it feels like to dance with another pair of lips.

I closed my eyes waiting for the kiss to come however instead of felling his lips on my lips I felt his lips my cheek. His hands grabbed a hold of my waist and he walked me backwards until I was standing pressed against the door. The feeling was overwhelming, his body pressed against mine, his lips on my skin, his big hands on my small waist, I had never felt more like a woman.

"Will you be my muse?" he asked ones again and this time I answered, certain that I was making the most foolish and wonderful choice of my life.

"Yes."

I felt his nose brush against mine before our lips met. Cautiously I moved my lips with his and when he let his tongue slip in to my mouth I gasped, startled, I didn't know that one used tongues in kissing.

I tried to do as he did but it was of no use, I had no idée what to do. I felt Jaspers hand leave my waist and I soon felt it at the back of my head where he guided my head to the side, kissing me deeper. I moaned in a way that I would never considered possible, never before had I tasted something as divine as Jasper.

He broke the kiss with a start; I opened my eyes confused only to see him smiling brightly.

"We will leave now, right away!" he said walking away from me and to a desk that was positioned at the corner of the room, "I'll write a letter to my father and to yours explaining where we have gone to. We cannot tell them in person as they will try to stop us."

"Jasper, we can't just leave, I need to pack my things"

"Do not worry my muse, you will have everything you ever whished for, there is no need for you to bring anything."

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**Renee (Bella's mother) POV**

"I cannot believe she would do something this foolish. What did I do to deserve such a daughter, had she not done this she could have married a Count or a Duke! Now she'll be a lost cause! Please Charlie we must go and get our daughter back, she did at least run away with a son of a noble man, we could force them to marry!" I begged my husband. How could he stand there so calmly when I had never been this distraught?

"We will not do such a thing. You will never again speak of her! I do not have a daughter anymore."

My husband's cold voice broke my heart. She was dead in his eyes and I would never see her again.

I feel to the floor, crying, screaming, begging. How could he so easily dismiss Isabella, our only child? He pretended not to hear me as he left the room and closed the door behind him.

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**Chapter 1 (part 2)**

**Bella's POV**

Jasper undressed me with so much confident it made me think that he must have undressed a thousand women. His fingers did not tremble, his eyes did not show any type of uncertainty, his cheeks did not redden and his knowledge of women's clothing or rather his knowledge of how to take a women's clothing of was astounding.

He took everything off with ease, making undressing a rather nice experience for a change. First the gown, my fichu, the second petticoat, hoops, corset, first petticoat, shoes and stockings. I was soon left feeling very much naked in nothing more than my shift. I could feel my entire body begin to flush.

This was the first time he saw me without clothes, before this I had not even taken of my gloves in his presence and I was beyond nervous. I could not stop my body from trembling no matter how much I tried.

"There is nothing to fear my muse" Jasper said as he took off the last piece of my clothing.

I kept my eyes lowered; I could not believe I had agreed to this.

"Sit down in the chair" I did as I was told.

The chair was rather small and simple, the only extravagant thing about it was that it was dressed in red silk, the chair did not look worthy of such fine piece of fabric.

"Turn your face to me, cross your legs, now place one of your hands on your thigh and try to make it look like you're going to move it in between your legs. That's it"

I was mortified, I did not know how to look like I was going to touch myself in the area between my legs; it had never been touched. Jasper however looked pleased and soon he was painting away.

My mortification lessened the longer I sat there, Jasper looked very serious as he stood with his palette in his hand, letting the brush sweep over the base in such a sensual way that I was soon breathing heavily by the sight of him.

With a loud thud the palette was thrown across the room making me jump. Jasper walked over to me with long determent strides making me feel petrified, had I done something wrong?

"The word perfection cannot even begin to describe what you are" he said as he kneeled down before me.

"Open your legs for me Isabella"

His voice held so much authority that I did not dare to disobey him. When I had opened my legs he looked at my womanhood with hunger. His blond hair swirled wildly on his head, his hands twitched and he licked his lips like he had a feast before him.

"Have you ever touched yourself there Isabella?"

"N..no" I stammered.

Feelings that I had never felt before was awoken within me and a throbbing sensation between my legs made me feel restless. I was scared, I didn't know what he were to do, yet at the same time I wanted nothing more than to find out.

Jasper put his big hand on my thigh and slowly moved it upwards. My breathing increased as his hand moved closer. When it finally reached that untouched territory I was lost by the sensation. I moaned loudly and it echoed around the almost empty room.

"You are already wet for me" he said and I blushed. I didn't know what he meant, was I sweating?

"Wet?"

"You know nothing do you?" He asked and I shook my head. "When your wet Isabella it means that you're ready for me and I have never met a woman whom becomes so responsive so quickly"

"Is that a bad thing?" I felt really unsure.

His movement stopped and he looked me in the eye.

"No my muse, it's a very good thing" he ensured me.

"Look down at yourself" I did, "how does this feel?" he said as he began rubbing hard with one finger on a certain spot. I couldn't answer; I had never before felt anything like it. My whole body was jerking in time with his finger and my moans grew louder.

"Answer me Isabella, how does it feel?"

"It feels so mm, so, good. Please don't stop" I said and threw my head back, if he stopped now I would surely die.

"What I'm touching now is called clitoris, it is a small thing that can bring you so much pleasure. I want to teach you, my muse, will you let me?"

By this point I would have let him done anything, my breathing became impossible fast and my whole body began to tingle.

"Answer me Isabella; I do not like being disobeyed."

He increased his pressure and soon I felt like I was flying, "Yes Jasper, yes!" I yelled as my entire body exploded with pleasure.

All too soon the pleasure went away and my hips jerked with his movements, I was to tender now and I wondered if perhaps something had brooked when he was touching me.

"Jasper, stop" I said, I could not bear the feeling any longer.

He did not stop, he increased the pressure even more and held on to me so that I couldn't move.

"Yes what, Isabella? Will you let me teach you?"

"Yes, I will let you; you can do whatever you want with me. Please Jasper stop, it hurts!" I half moaned half yelled.

"Relax my muse, you had an orgasm, that's the reason it hurts now. If you relax it will soon feel even better than it did before and you will come again."

I did as he told me, the pain lessened and as he promised I was soon flying again.

I was brought up a proper lady, I wasn't a lady today; today I was a woman, a woman who had just had the most pleasurable experience of her life with a promise of more to come.

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**A/N: This story will not have much of a plot; it will however have more sex, so maybe that makes up for it? I had this little idée stuck in my brain and decided to write it down but I am unsure if I should continue it, do you think that I should?**

**If you do think so I must say that my first priority will be my story "Bonnie get your Clyde", that means that the updates on this story will be slow. Is it worth the wait? Please let me know…**

**Meaning of words…**

**Lady's maid - A lady's-maid is responsible for dressing her mistress, ensuring her clothes are in good order, hairdressing her mistress and also repairing and producing some of her mistress' clothes.**

**Fichu - a large square neckerchief folded into a triangle with the point down**  
**the back, which protects the gown above it from the unwashed skin beneath. It also conceals the cleavage, for modesty, and protects the lady's assets from the vulgar tanning effect of the sun.**

**Shift – A basic undergarment. The shift comes to somewhere just below the knee – short enough so that it does not show under any of the petticoats. Nothing is worn underneath.**


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